


Blood Of Our Fathers

by pingou



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Jyn Erso Appreciation Squad, Rogue One thy name is angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 04:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11684508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pingou/pseuds/pingou
Summary: Jyn Erso didn't know when Saw Gerrera switched from merely calling her child to calling her his, period. She didn't mind. They were their own family, this hardened warrior and the tiny green-eyed girl from Force knew where.Of course, she managed. Learned to hate him because that was easier than loving a man who didn't love her enough.Him dying at her hand would have been a lovely way to go but she loved him too much for that, it seems.(NB: My contribution to the Jyn Erso Appreciation Squad)





	Blood Of Our Fathers

Her first impression of Galen Erso was primal: a physical warmth, a scent she had known since the beginning of time, a gentle voice, eyes like hers. Jyn was his Stardust, as well as Mama’s.

After he'd been ripped away from her, Saw became… more than a mentor if not quite her father. She had no parents, she barely had a name. A fighter, a Partisan, didn’t need one. 

Her first impression of Saw, her first lasting one that is — because when she'd had met him at four, she had been too young to label the Onderonian as anything more than “friend” — was of his voice and his dark hand pulling her out of the cave she hid in. His dark brown hot hand had gripped her alabaster arm, firm, but not bruising. 

Saw Gerrera didn't have the time for the occasional cuddling Galen had once bestowed upon her, nor the inclination. It didn't mean he wasn't attentive, though, in his own way: he never left her training to others, and she could always come to him whenever for advice. Hers was the voice most likely to reach him, and he always gave her more food than the rest of the insurgents.

Like with Galen, it's the little gestures that mattered the most. 

Saw kept her for months with him at night. He didn't sung her songs, or read stories, or even did as much as kiss her goodnight, but he made sure to be here when she fell asleep. He didn't comfort her when she had nightmares, exactly, but he slept nearby on a cot, and that was enough. On her birthday, he'd always got her something: a honeyed cake, a knife, new boots, even books about engineering.

She didn't know when he switched from merely calling her child to calling her his, period. She didn't mind. They were their own family, this hardened warrior and the tiny green-eyed girl from Force knew where.

Among the Partisans, she'd learned to survive by any means necessary, messing with the Empire in every capacity she could. Saw had tried to shelter her as much as possible from the gruesomer reality of the guerilla he led. But at twelve she came back to him almost soaked in blood, eyes empty and her braids a tangled mess of soot, dust and —

His ire has always been legendary. He made her sit in his tent like she was eight again, and she'd been too dumbstruck to realize what he had in mind. Of their little group, nine people came back with Jyn, including two of the oldest brothers in arms of Saw, from back when he fought during the Clone Wars. He killed them all with his bare hands, in retaliation for bringing Jyn without his consent. She was that important to him.

She should have been horrified, perhaps, when he came back to her as bloody as she was, but she didn't. He took the effort to sit on his knees in front of her, and since he already had to rely on a stick to walk, by that point, it wasn't a small thing. They were at eye-level, his black eyes burning like an inferno against her green watered ones, that were swimming, sinking into an endless lake of remorse. His dark brown hot hand, still moist with blood of others gripped her alabaster red painted ones, firmly, but not bruising. 

And like he'd done on Lah'mu, he pulled her out of her mental cave, pulling her against him. He smelt of iron and smoke and sweat, like she did, and her tears slowly wet his collarbones. He didn't mind. He held her tighter, never saying anything, even if the position must have killed him. She felt him breath her in, like she breathed him. 

Slowly, as her tears dried, his callused hand came in her hair, got struck. She'd had grimaced, went to the vibro-blade hidden in her boot. He stopped her with a gesture. Got painstakingly to his feet, and put water in a basin and found a rag.

He unraveled her childhood braids with surprising deft fingers while Jyn had her heart to her throat again. Once he deemed her hair passably clean, he spoke with an even rougher voice than usual:

“My sister Steela had hair like you my child.”

“She did?”

“Yes, a long time ago. She loved to have it braided, talked me into doing it for her.”

She had tried to picture this, a young Saw and his breaded sister, but found she couldn't. Hair was an hindrance to a soldier, the remnant of a childhood meaningless to her now. Saw smiled a little wishfully, like he heard her thoughts, and added, almost sweetly:

 “You just can't sever your hair like that, all right? Let me do this for you at least.”

The offer was unexpected, and she'd gaped at him for a second, well, because ruthless Saw Gerrera just asked to cut her hair? But she heard the underlying message of, you're family, let me take care of you, and suddenly, she who didn't felt enough a moment ago was overwhelmed by emotion. 

He cut her hair into an even, kinda wavy blob, which felt liberating, but pocketed the remaining hair. Jyn pretended not to notice. 

“New hairstyle, new name, my girl. We've called you Jyn long enough.”

It was true. Jyn Erso had become Jyn Dawn pretty early on, because Erso was a too easily recognizable name, but she didn't feel like being Jyn anymore. Jyn didn't know what it was like to watch the light go out of someone’s eyes. She'd killed before, but it had always had been in an abstract, impersonal way, through sabotaging or putting bombs. Now she knew and there was no going back. Jyn had to die too.

“Can I take your name this time, Saw?”

She knew he'd say no, and why he would. Rationally, she knew that in some ways being Saw Gerrera’s daughter was a greater danger than being linked back to imperial scientist Galen Erso. Nonetheless, he was the one who had raised her, not the man she inherited half of her genetics from. Risking a glance at his bloody nails then at her own, she thought wryly that they were literally bound by blood, if not from the inside. Indeed, the separatist only replied:

“You're already a Gerrera to me, child. It should be enough for you.”

It was, really, and she still smiled at his refusal, because that alone was a declaration. In the end, she begrudgingly agreed to be called Kestrel Dawn. Kestrel was his mother’s name, he told her. It meant dream, and he thought it fitting because they all dreamt about a freed Galaxy.

She went on fighting, until this faithful mission on Tamsye Prime where he finally did the unthinkable. He abandoned her.

"He knows who you really are. A secret like that, once exposed, cannot be hidden again."

"You're coming back for me, right? Promise?"

"Go! Run!"

Well, to be fair, Saw didn't promise anything, but that brought her little consolation.

It hurt more than Galen's defection, truth to be told. Because while she was born to the Erso lineage, she has grown into the Gerrera one, more than any other Partisan animated by the cause. She first fought because he did, now that he's not with her, that he let her down, she didn't know who she could be and what was worth fighting for anymore. Besides, it was the second time she was abandoned by her father, twice too many.

Of course, she managed. Learned to hate him because that was easier than loving a man who didn't love her enough. He sank faster without her though, physically and mentally. He knew it had to be done, for her sake, but it still ate away at him. He went back to not caring about anything except the success of the Partisans, but still kept the girl’s braid on him always.

They finally met each other again at the world’s end, for NiJedha had been about to self destruct, with both the Empire and the Partisans and the Rebels and the worn out civilians, all concentrated in the Holy City. The resentment and bitterness and cruelty weren't as sharp as they had expected. There was little time for that, between her deal with the Rebellion, the Empire’s shadow and Galen's message. Papa. 

It left her bereft, shaken and prostrate on the floor, only Saw didn't pull his hand out for her this time around. He couldn't, and maybe he wouldn't anyway. She knew better than this, because he raised her not to be swayed by anything, particularly not her parents. Only the cause had mattered to him, really, not her:

"You care not about the cause?"

"The cause? Seriously? The Alliance, the Rebels, whatever it is you're calling yourself these days, all it's ever brought me is pain."

She had gazed upon his robotic corpse — he had no true body anymore — and found that underneath, she still cared. He gazed at her matured features, looking weak, unbearably relieved, if not regretful enough and she hoped that underneath, he was proud of her, for surviving, for being here in spite of everything.

Him dying at her hand would have been a lovely way to go but she loved him too much for that, it seems. Against all odds, she tried to make his useless body come with her. The impulse they had to reach out to each other was still here. Cassian was bodily dragging her back to the ship as the Catacombs of Cadera crumbled around him.

“Save the dream!”

Save their dream, save Kestrel — save herself — was the true meaning of his last words. Despite the awful rumbling around and his altered voice, it struck her as fast as lightening as Cassian drug her out of there. The nightmarish annihilation of the Holy City and the ship going to hyperdrive prevented her from witnessing Saw’s last moments, but her muscles burned with wanting to run back to him still. Maybe he told her the truth when he said he thought of her every day… he certainly thought of her on his last. She struggled to swallow back her sobs.

The grief of everyone's face was plain to see — even Kaytoo Esso seemed subdued — at the loss of the city, the temple, the people… but Jyn Erso didn't have to be Jedhan to feel devastated. Even if Cassian knew where Galen was, she has already lost the man she thought of as a father, without even setting things right with him; all she'd meant to say, all she could have heard from the man who raised her was lost, in specs of dusty regrets trapped within her mind forever.

She tried to get past that, schooled her features under a scornful mask, and considered she wasn't the only one to have lost everything. The least she could was pulling herself out of her apathy to do right by Saw and start making a difference again.

Everyone believed her, even if the Holo was lost in the ashes, along with the memory of Saw Gererra and his Partisans. The current survivors in the ship had a mission to attend to now, a message that had to be transmitted. 

Even if it meant facing the entire Rebel high command or Papa again, Jyn Erso wouldn't back down: she's still a Gerrera, in her heart.


End file.
